A Novel in 300 parts, give or take. Jasfoup the demon uncovers a zombie problem in Laverstone. What do you do when RentoKill refuse to get involved? Dust off your saber, that's what.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Dead Rite chapter 165.10

Harold shuddered. “Why
do I feel suddenly dirty?”

“Imps.” Jasfoup
waved a hand dismissively. “They could make a saint feel dirty.”

“They often are. The
whole point of becoming a saint is overcomeing your base nature and
becoming a valued member of the community.” Devious was now holding
a tiny espresso cup. Harold hadn't even seen him move from his
position at the table to fetch it. He was getting really good at his
illusions. Had he concealed the coffee about his person somewhere?
Hard to do when wearing nothing but a loincloth and utility belt.
Wait...

“When did you start
wearing a utility belt?”

“Since I watched a
man on television with one. It looked exceptionally useful.”
Devious put down his coffee and stood on the chair to show it off.
“It's full of handy gadgets, look. A pen. An easel and palette of
oil paint. Stonemason's chisels. Tool for getting stones out of
horses hooves.” He frowned. “Not sure why I've got a can of shark
repellent, though.”

“You never know when
a car salesman is going to pounce.”

“True, but it's
hardly likely when so few mortals can see me.”

Harold reaches across
and pried the espresso cup from Lucy's fingers. “It looks as though
Lucy might need some imp repellent.”

“You wound me,
Master.” Devious put a paw to his chest. Harold remained uncertain
about the anatomy of an imp. He'd never come across any anatomical
treatises of the Hellborn, but since most other magical creatures
shared a basic structure with mortals there was no reason why demons
and devilkin wouldn't.